Counting To Five
by sinking815
Summary: She began to shut down, compartmentalizing her chaotic emotions, burying old memories that had suddenly sprang forth, falling back into a rhythm of a fugitive. JKS


Kate had never thought of herself as claustrophobic. When she was younger, her favorite game was hide-and-seek and being scared of confined spaces would have been contradicting herself. Her normally disadvantageous small frame became her greatest ally, allowing her access to the best hiding spots, even the small crevices deemed impossible to use by the bigger kids. Minutes would pass slowly and soon shouts of exasperation would be heard throughout the house in acknowledged defeat. She was the master of hide-and-seek; she had won. But Kate had quickly learned that defending her title became more and more difficult as new hideouts dwindled and becamer harder and harder to find. Stretching the rules became the only option and cheating was inevitable. Even then, her choices were limited and she began to run out of places to hide. That's when she got caught. That's when the game turned deadly—so she ran.

She assumed that was the reason she found herself, exhausted and breathing hard from her panicked escape, standing near ankle-deep in the warm sand. Her mind had completely shut down from the overload of two relationships drawing dangerously close. The only thing Kate remembered were two men's raised voices and the need to run.

The irrational panic sank in once again as the overwhelming fear crushed her heart and constricted her throat. How did she let both of them in so quickly? Why couldn't she see the mess she was getting herself into? More importantly, how could she get out? Her grey-greeen eyes darted around quickly, mind furiously working out a plan of escape. But where does one run to and hide on an island? Sooner or later she would be found.

The realization brought a hot sting to the back of her eyes burning wet tracks across her flushed cheeks. Kate slumped down on the deep sand, emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Pulling her knees to her chest, she swallowed hard against the fiery fear pounding in her heart and drew in a shaky breath, wishing for once it didn't feel like the whole world was against her. Her throat was raw from rapidly gasping humid air and she choked on her pained sobs. But the empty void inside her filled her heart pushing away those seemingly trivial details. With vacant watery eyes she stared across the empty horizon, barely acknowledging the beautiful swirl of crimson and violet hues. She began to shut down, compartmentalizing her chaotic emotions, burying old memories that had suddenly sprang forth, falling back into a rhythm of a fugitive.

Start over. Clean slate. Forget everything. But somethings refused to be tossed out like last week's garbage.

_I'd let the fear in, let it take over, let it do its thing. But only for five seconds. That's all I was gonna give it._

Kate started at the familiar comforting voice that whispered softly in her mind. The shaded grotto, the desperate plea, the black thread—it all came back so fast she had no time to clamp down on its invasion. It was like watching a movie of her life flash before her, and she was mesmerized. She sat in a trance, reliving the terror, the anxiety, the danger, the comfort. The poignant memory enveloped Kate in a determined resolve and she choked in another quivering gasp, closed her eyes and began to count.

_One._

He accepted her for who she was. He didn't question her past because he had been down that rocky road before himself. Their "connection" was a common understanding of don't ask, don't give. That was what they were comfortable with—their superficial selves.

He accepted her for who she could be. He didn't let her hide behind her past. That would have been the easy road, but not the morally right one. The concept of letting sleeping dogs lie apparently didn't float with him. And who could blame him? He was a doctor; knowing everything was what kept him his job.

_Two._

He didn't ask for trust or expect it. Truth in their relationship would be defined by faithfulness. After that, it was all is fair in love and war. What they knew about each other and what they would learn, would all be founded upon their observations. Their game of "I Never" was a joke really. The two best liars on their tropical paradise playing a game of admittance. Somehow, someway, they had extracted small pieces of information from each other, adding it to their personal arsenal they had become accumstomed to carrying. Unfortunately for Kate, he lit his weapons first, unleashing her secret to the castaways, ripping her apart for everyone to see because that's just who he was.

He demanded the truth and got it. She had tried lying to him once—the attempt failed miserably. In the few days after, Kate convinced herself she had lost her strongest alliance on the island. She was back to square one, which ment running. And on island, there was no where to run. But thankfully, he stuck to what he had said before, _I'm not big on rubbing it in._ Even though, she had knocked a huge chunk out of their hard-earned trust, he had forgiven because that's just who he was.

_Three._

He was entertaining. He knew just how to bate her for a reaction. New nicknames earned him a feigned look of exasperation. Snappy one-liners started a battle of wits. Despite all the light-hearted flirtation, what annoyed her most was the way he blatantly paraded his sexual innuendos in front of Jack like she was already marked territory. As far as Kate was concerned, she didn't belong to anyone. Nevertheless, it prompted Kate's aggravation and Jack's pretense at ignorance, which was exactly what he had been playing for in the first place. That was what frustrated her about him. He was too much like her. Manipulative. Guarded. Self-serving. A parasite to all around him.

He was captivating. He possessed a power over her she wasn't even sure he was aware of. Something in him was able to read her like a book. He saw straight past any façade she thought would thwart him. The tough independent girl softened at one of his concerned glances. The rebellious trouble-making girl felt shame when she heard his upset tone. The defensive compartmentalized girl spilled her guts with his reassuring touch. That was what intrigued her about him. Without even trying, he just understood her, and that was terrifying. Fugitives had to always be in control, and with him, that control was slipping away, like water through closed fingers.

_Four._

With him, it would be fast and rough, a lust-filled catharsis releasing their pent-up anger and hurt. His suggestive overtures were nothing but invitations for a rough and tumble in the jungle. As with their relationship, it would be a carnal want, each taking from the other what they needed. She could almost feel his rough stubble grazing her collarbone and the sharp fierce bites marking her neck. He'd growl dirty words into her ear pushing her to walk the line between primitive sex and physical abuse. But because they both played that way, both would be temporarily satisfied in the end.

With him, it would be slow and gentle, a love-filled passion reteaching them the meaning of desire. She'd catch him in a flirtatious mood; they would "verbally copulate" (as Charlie put it) until someone would cross the line and make it physical. Then she could almost see it. His smoldering dark gaze would melt her heart. His deep husky foice would send shivers down her spine and goosebumps across her skin. His intimate touch would master her body, each caress teasing her tighter. His patient control would make her beg for complete surrender, teasing her slowly over the edge. He would be way too much, but at the same time, never enough.

_Five._

Sawyer, however ironic it might be, was the "safe" choice, the shortcut, the cop-out. But Kate had to ask herself, was that what she wanted?

Jack was the "risky" choice, the challenge, the double-dog dare. But since when had Kate ever done things the easy way?

"What're you doing out her Kate?" Charlie plopped himself next to her, his guitar slung over his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be at the hatch?"

She watched him absently strum a few chords before answering. "I'm counting."

"You're bloody what?" He looked at her confused. She almost laughed despite her pensive mood.

Kate dropped his dumbfounded stare and saw Jack burst from the treeline, and frantically search the beach. When he saw her, the tension in his shoulders and back visibly disappated, the relief flooding back into his handsome features. "I'm counting," she said again, as if the answer made perfect sense.

Dusting off her cargoes and stretching her cramped muscles, Kate patted Charlie's shoulder and left him staring after her. She'd made her choice.


End file.
